


And Nothing But The Truth

by Priestlyislove



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Crushes, Fast Food, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, Insults, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, Self-Esteem Issues, Swearing, Truth Serum, headcanons, tiny pinch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 16:03:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18253184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priestlyislove/pseuds/Priestlyislove
Summary: Cavendish finds himself in a predicament when he’s forced to tell the truth through a Murphy’s Law accident





	And Nothing But The Truth

It had been a while since Dakota and Cavendish had been so deeply involved in a Murphy’s Law incident. They usually just crossed paths for a minute in the heat of it, like fireworks at a concert getting a glimpse of the rioting crowd. How it started and how it ended would remain a mystery, but fireworks don’t really care that much about what people are doing. They’re kind of busy with the exploding and all that. Which makes it a suitable metaphor, Dakota thinks, because he and Cavendish often did things similar to exploding when trying to keep their jobs.

But this time, they were really in the midst of it. It was like they were wading through a big, thick swamp made of Murphy’s Law soup. That metaphor was less astute. Dakota would work on it.

Lightning, candy wrappers, squirrels, ferry boats, creepy dolls that would haunt Dakota’s nightmares for weeks to come, the usual stuff. Thanks to Milo’s quick thinking, total disaster was avoided and the chaos finally seemed to be dying down. Dakota had lost track of Cavendish for a few minutes, but now they were reunited, both a little out of breath. Milo scampered over to them. Dakota reached over and pulled a twig out of his cowlick.

“Are you guys alright?” Milo smiled so brightly it was hard to believe he had been a part of the previous misadventure at all. He had a knack for making the best out of awful situations, that was certain. If anyone or anything ever made him sad, Dakota would go on a rampage.

“You know it,” Dakota flicked the twig away.

“No.” Cavendish said plainly. Dakota blinked and looked to his partner. No further clarification was provided.

Milo’s smile started to drop, so Dakota made himself laugh, “oh boy, think that’s enough excitement for one day. Must’ve got too much sun. We’ll see you around, kiddo.” He grabbed Cavendish by the arm, yanking him away from the conversation.

“Ok. Bye Cavendish, bye Dakota!” Milo chirped after them, then hurried away to join his friends.

“What is your problem?” Dakota hissed once Milo was out of ear shot. “You tryna to break his little heart? What’s wrong, anyway? You get harpooned with a javelin?” Dakota glanced at Cavendish’s back, in case there was a javelin.

Cavendish made a displeased noise. “I think you would notice if I had been impaled.”

“Eh, you’d be surprised.”

“And I didn’t mean to upset him. Or you. I was just telling the truth. I’m not alright. I’m...different. I got zapped back there.” Cavendish held up a finger gun and made what Dakota could only assume was supposed to be a zap sound effect.

Dakota wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Zapped?”

“By a laser beam.” Cavendish said, as if that clarified anything. “I feel as though I have no filter. A woman I did not know asked me if anything was wrong while you were busy with the-uh, lion juggling-and I told her I think I’ve been experiencing erectile dysfunction.” Cavendish bit his lip, but his face did not redden the way it normally would when he said words like ‘erectile.’ He was eerily calm, “Which is why I bit my tongue when Murphy asked me if I was alright. I did not want to say that to him.”

“Yeah, you know, that’s, uh, that’s understandable,” Dakota’s hands slipped down Cavendish’s arm, so instead of dragging him along he was brushing their fingers together, nearly holding hands. This kind of behavior was typical enough. Dakota often relied on Cavendish to initiate touching, because some days he was more comfortable with it than others. He’d either keep a three foot distance between them at all times, or he’d be glued to Dakota. Dakota asked experimentally, squinting at him, “Have you ever cried while listening to Taylor Swift?”

“On a near weekly basis.”

“Shit, dude, I think you got ‘zapped’ by a truth ray or something,” Dakota chuckled, wrapping his fingers around his partner’s, celebrating internally when Cavendish slightly tightened his grip. “How d’ya think we fix it?”

Cavendish spoke with his usual condescending manner, but was missing his signature eye roll, “Typical of you to think telling the truth is something that needs to be fixed. I consider myself a very honest person.”

“Aw, don’t preach at me,” Dakota complained, swinging their hands and raising the pitch of his voice to mock him, “Oh, I’m perfect Cavendish, I eat vegetables for fun and have never left gum on the bottom of a diner table.” Dakota licked his lips, steering them in a new direction as his objective shifted from Go Home to Get Food. “Ugh, that makes me hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.” Cavendish huffed, but he didn’t pull away, which meant he didn’t disapprove of this detour.

“Anyway, being good is good and all, but sometimes it’s good to lie. So being not good is actually good. Really makes you think.”

“Not at all.”

Dakota pushed open the Slushy Dog door, smiling at the little bell that sounded. He loved those things. He loved a lot about 21st century restaurants. They were so retro. “I’m serious, though, you’ll regret having to say what you think. Ooh, ‘specially if it’s compulsive truth.”

Cavendish did not entertain their conversation any longer as they approached the counter. A blond teen stood behind the cash register, “Can I take your order?”

“Well, I don’t know if you can _take_ it, but-“

“Oh, hi Dakota.” The kid stuck out his hand for him to shake. Dakota shook it. “It’s nice to see what you look like. And this is Cavendish?”

“Yep.” Dakota squeezed Cavendish’s hand without meaning to. It just felt natural. “Nice to see your face, too, Jeremy. They promote you off of drive thru duty?”

“No, I do both. I do a lot of jobs here, actually, I should be getting paid more.” Jeremy blew a strand of hair out of his face. “So, orders?”

“I’ll take two burgers and onion rings.” 

“Don’t get that.” Cavendish spoke up suddenly. “The onion rings here are gross. Your breath will smell bad and you’ll probably throw up after eating them. I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Woah, dude,” Jeremy laughed, visibly surprised, “take it up with management, man.”

“I’m sorry,” Dakota squeezed Cavendish’s hand on purpose this time, but not in a cute way, more in a ‘I’ll crush your hand if you don’t behave’ way. “He’s...really old.”

“I’m younger than you.” Cavendish did not even glance at Dakota as he continued, expression unchanged, “have you ever had actual meat in this establishment? It doesn’t taste like you have. I don’t know why anybody ever comes here. You should be out of business.”

“You’re what?” Dakota’s mouth fell open, and he had a million questions, but that was not the priority. He turned back to Jeremy, fishing money out of his pocket. “I’m so sorry. He’ll take a burger, too. And I guess I’m switching to fries.”

Jeremy took the cash, keeping his eyes on Cavendish, as if he was worried he would do something sporadic, like jumping up on the counter or just plain screaming. “Uh, right. You’re order number 18.”

“Great, perfect, that’s my favorite number, thanks,” Dakota was once again dragging Cavendish away. They sat down in a booth. Dakota sighed, “I don’t want to say I told you so, but I did. So. You know. I told you so.”

Cavendish shook his head, unrelenting as always, “I don’t regret saying any of that. I meant it. I’m a truth teller, Dakota. I take pride in that. This has only freed me from the social conventions that would prevent me from saying what is true. It’s a blessing to be able to speak your mind, not a curse.”

“I’m gonna have to duct tape your mouth shut if you give any more unsolicited opinions,” Dakota folded the edge of a napkin absentmindedly, “which would suck, because there’s a lot of juicy information I want to get out of you.”

Before Cavendish could respond, a girl brought them their meals. Dakota flashed her a friendly smile, and Cavendish opened his big mouth, “I don’t like-“

Dakota kicked him as hard as he could under the table. “Ketchup!” Dakota finished for him, forcing a laugh, “so it’s great that he didn’t ask for ketchup. Thank you so much, have a good afternoon.”

Their server seemed rightfully confused by this interaction, but left without prying. “Eat your stupid burger already,” Dakota unwrapped his, biting into it and savoring the calming effect of all that grease, “you can say less garbage when your mouth is full, I speak from experience.”

Cavendish did not pick up his burger. He just stared intently at Dakota with a blank look in his eyes. Come to think of it, ever since he got ‘zapped’ his expression hadn’t changed. It was kind of unsettling. Dakota did not meet his eyes. “What were you talking about?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Dakota sucked his fingers clean of burger juice. “I talk about a lot of stuff.”

“Just a minute ago.” Cavendish tapped his fingers on the table, which looked odd without a nervous expression to match. “You said you wanted information out of me. But I’m always upfront with you.”

“Ah, you’re cured.” Dakota snorted, taking another bite. Cavendish tilted his head slightly to the side, so Dakota explained, “I don’t think that’s true, so I was joking it must mean you can lie again. You don’t tell me lots of stuff.”

“Like what?”

‘I wouldn’t know, you don’t tell me’ would’ve been a perfectly witty response. Dakota wished he thought of it a second sooner, since he had already blurted out “how you feel about me, for example.”

“How I feel…” Cavendish blinked slowly, like a lizard, and Dakota could feel his heart racing in his chest, and it wasn’t just because he was clogging his arteries with Slushy Dog products. “I thought I’ve made my feelings clear. I think you’re...cheap.”

“Cheap.” Dakota echoed, and suddenly he felt as empty as Cavendish looked.

“Yes. And generally repugnant. Like when you pick your nose because you think nobody is watching. Or when you’ve got a fog of cologne following you because you think it will cover the fact you didn’t shower for a few days in a row. I think you’re selfish and apathetic to the point where it unnerves me.”

Dakota wished he could focus on creating a snappy comeback. All he had so far was ‘I know you are, but what am I?’ which even he could admit felt a little juvenile, considering his situation. But he was unable to brainstorm comebacks. He was too busy watching Cavendish stomp on his heart like he was trying to turn grapes into wine. It was almost hypnotic, watching his blank-canvas faced crush detail all the ways he hated him. There would be no running from it this time. No brushing it off as an argument that got too heated or jokes that went too far. This was the real, genuine truth. A truth Cavendish had tried to tell him before, but he refused to believe.

“To put it simply, practically everything about you is designed to repel me.” Cavendish grabbed a fry from Dakota’s platter, but he didn’t eat it. He just started tearing it into little pieces, dropping bits of fried potato on the table. “And you infuriate me, because it doesn’t make any sense. Despite you being _you_ in all the worst possible ways, I don’t dislike you in the slightest.”

Dakota was now officially lost.

“You always make me laugh. You’re brave without having to try, you never lose your cool, you excel where I fail. Whenever I’m being terrible you’re still pleasant, and it makes me want to hate you. I guess it’s because I hate myself, and I feel a little better when I put down other people.” The already bizarre truth was made stranger by the very still way Cavendish stared at the french fry mess he had created. “Isn’t that pathetic? I sit here, insulting you, because I’m in love with you and I don’t know how to handle it.”

Dakota choked, and he vowed that if Slushy Dog killed him in this moment then he would return as a ghost and haunt the joint for all of time. But he managed to swallow. Literally, not figuratively. He could not figuratively swallow the information Cavendish was so readily feeding him. “You’re in what with who?” He finally said, intelligently.

“I’m in love with you. I have been for a very long time. I want you to kiss me.”

Dakota’s heart was practically fluttering away at this point. He wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. “Even if I’m cheap and selfish and a, uh, pug-magnet?”

“Repugnant.” Cavendish corrected him quietly and met his eyes again, “Especially if you are those things.”

Dakota put his elbows on the table, awkwardly shuffling closer as he leaned across. “You sure?” His voice cracked, coming out as the squeak of a mouse instead of the suave flirtation of a man.

“Positive.” Cavendish leaned forward and closed his eyes. Dakota’s whole body quaked, and he felt like this was the very first kiss of his life. He could not remember the last time he was this nervous. Their lips touched only for a second before Dakota retreated back to his side of the booth.

Cavendish’s cheeks turned pink. A smile spread across his face, disrupting the perfect curve of his mustache. When he opened his eyes, that old mischievous glint had returned to them. He laughed and it was like the flapping of butterfly wings. Dakota let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I’m sorry I’m such a jerk,” Cavendish could not stop laughing, but his eyes were pricked with tears. Dakota was a little worried he was having a nervous breakdown. He reached across the table, not hesitating this time, and held his hands tightly.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, you’re not a jerk,” Dakota promised, “I would say way worse if I had to tell the truth about your pretentious, stuffy ass.”

They laughed together, sitting in their little booth together, and they were honestly, truthfully happy to just be together.

 

 

 

”Wait, are you seriously younger than me?”


End file.
